Shoggoth 2- Rise of the Elders by Byron Craft

Author:Byron Craft [Craft, Byron]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9781722661984
Publisher: CreateSpace
Published: 2018-07-23T04:00:00+00:00

Chapter 16

- Escape -

Gideon sat on the chamber floor with his back against the smooth granite wall, his eyes moist with grief. The engraved illustration of an oversized mollusk wielding tentacles perched crown-like above his head. Pemba, alongside, held his hand.

“Dutch was more of a brother to me than Alan ever was,” he offered remorsefully. “We served in Afghanistan together. The Taliban, at one time, held power over roughly three-quarters of the country until being overthrown by the American-led invasion. We were in the eastern section of the Islamic Republic, outside of Kabul.” He stared at the distant ceiling, “A group of Taliban fighters had assassinated western medical aid workers; men, and women. Using long knives, they slit their throats and skinned them.”

Pemba was horrified by the image he presented but said nothing.

“Dutch and I were on reconnaissance. We were eyes on the ground. Just scout, take no action, and report back were our orders. We found evidence of a camp ten klicks south of the Hindu Kush mountain range.”

Gideon, hoarse with the consequence of screaming rage, forced himself to continue. Pemba perceived the release of pent-up rage. She squeezed his hand, knowing that he needed to purge.

“Dutch headed to the northern mountainous countryside, and I held to the south. We were to keep our heads down and rendezvous back to our starting point in thirty minutes. Separation is not a good tactic, but he talked me into it. Dutch was a big risk taker, and he assured me that he’d lay low.”

“Dutch talked?” she asked gently.

“He could then,” he answered after a long pause. With a faint smile, he added, “Given the chance, Dutch could talk your ear off.”

“What happened Gideon?” afraid to ask.

“A half hour later he didn’t return. I went north, followed his tracks.” A tear streamed down Gideon’s cheek. “I found him and the Taliban guerrillas’ camp. They had beaten him badly. They had stripped off his uniform and staked him to the ground. Blood was flowing from his mouth. I recognized what they had done to him. They had cut out his tongue. It was laying in the dirt beside him.”

Pemba sensed the rage rising in him again. “Oh, God,” she moaned and took both of Gideon’s hands in hers.

“There were ten of the bastards, enjoying themselves, they were going to cut him some more, then they saw me. They hesitated, killers are cowards . . . they just stared, I was detached, it was righteous revenge. I shot them all before they could react. Their fear made them waver, and I shot them one at a time. And then I shot them all again and again!”

Gideon grew quiet, his head became heavy, and he dropped his chin to his chest. Pemba held him close pressing her face against his. In a low voice, he continued, “I did what I could to slow the bleeding. I called for a medevac unit on my sat-phone. Dutch had become unconscious by then, thank God. In a little while, a chopper took him to the National Military Hospital in Kabul.

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